“Isn’t that good!” said Michael heartily. “I wonder what we can do to make it pleasant for him when he comes back to the world. We’ll bring him to this room, of course, but in the spring this will be getting warm. And that makes me think of what I was talking about a minute ago. There’s so much more in the country than in the city!” “More?” questioned Sam uncomprehendingly. “Yes, things like this to look at. Growing things that you get to love and understand. Wonderful things. There’s a river that sparkles and talks as it runs. There are trees that laugh and whisper when the wind plays in their branches. And there are wonderful birds, little live breaths of air with music inside that make splendid friends when you’re lonely. I know, for I made lots of bird-friends when I went away from you all to college. You know I was pretty lonely at first.” Sam looked at him with quick, keen wonder, and a lighting of his face that made him almost attractive and sent the cunning in his eyes slinking out of sight. Had this fine great-hearted creature really missed his old friends when he went away? Had he really need of them yet, with all his education—and—difference? It was food for thought. “Then there’s the sky, so much of it,” went on Michael, “and so wide and blue, and sometimes soft white clouds. They make you feel rested when you look at them floating lazily through the blue, and never seeming to be tired; not even when there’s a storm and they have to hurry. And there’s the sunset. Sam, I don’t believe you ever saw the sunset, not right anyway. You don’t have sunsets here in the city, it just gets dark. You ought to see one I saw not long ago. I mean to take you there some day and we’ll watch it together. I want to see if it will do the same thing to you that it did to me.” Sam looked at him in awe, for he wore his exalted look, and when he spoke like that Sam had a superstitious fear that perhaps after all he was as old Sal said, more of angel than of man. “And then, there’s the earth, all covered with green, plenty of it to lie in if you want to, and it smells so good; and there’s so much air,—enough to breathe your lungs full, and with nothing disagreeable in it, no ugly smells nor sounds. And there are growing things everywhere. Oh, Sam! Wouldn’t you like to make things like this grow?” Sam nodded and put forth his rough forefinger shamedly to touch the velvet of a green leaf, as one unaccustomed might touch a baby’s cheek. “You’ll go with me, Sam, to the country sometime, won’t you? I’ve got a plan and I’ll need you to help me carry it out. Will you go?” “Sure!” said Sam in quite a different voice from any reluctant assent he had ever given before. “Sure, I’ll go!”